The Ruin of Many a Poor Boy
by Threepwillow
Summary: The superheroine that's stepped up to fill the Hammer-void is probably the only person Dr. Horrible can't bring himself to fight. He hates to lose, but there really isn't a way to win this one. :::postseries, BillyxPenny...sort of, title from Muse:::


_Day 4 since ELE approval. I'm sure by now everyone has seen the major articles concerning the situation, but in case you haven't: I'm awesome. And by "awesome" I mean "evil." (Oh, but while I'm on the subject, do any of my regular viewers have extra copies of those articles? I made the mistake of putting my henchman in charge of the Horrible Scrapbook, and - yeah. Just...send them to my ELE P.O. box.)_

...I'm getting fitted today for a new labcoat. This one has seen better days, and it's just not me any more. Dead Bowie says that red will be a better contrast with my skin, plus it won't show stains as bad. What do you think? Is it worth it having to do a separate load of laundry, so the red doesn't run onto my other stuff? I don't...get to the laundromat...much...lately....

Oh, and to the nice group of girls that sent me the ah...goggle repair kit and the T-shirt with my face on it. Uh, thanks, ladies. Your enthusiasm is...commendable.

A'ight. The Doctor is OUT.

---

Laundry day.

He's taking the bold red coat out of the dryer - it's still warm to the touch, and still strange to him to call his own - when the door opens. A conditioned response, he turns instantly to look at the new arrival, though he knows inside himself that it won't be her.

But it _is_ her.

The red coat falls from his grasp to the floor as he stands there, dumbfounded. He can't speak to her, it's almost like the first time he ever saw her, but she says _Billy!_ and then he doesn't really have a choice.

P...Penny? he croaks out, averting his eyes, dropping to the floor, picking up his new red coat.

Oh, Billy, she says, almost like she's sighing. Did you think I was dead, too?

Everyone did, he says finally. Because you were.

I was, she says. But not any more.

She hops up onto the washer that he's using. A conditioned response, he hoists himself up to sit beside her to listen. I think there's something special about me, Billy, she says.

_There is,_ he thinks. _There always has been._ Out loud he asks, Like what?

I _know_ I died, she says. I remember feeling very definitely dead. But somehow, here I was - alive again. So I...tested it.

She curls her legs under herself, turns to face him. Eye contact is still hard. Yesterday morning, she says, while I was making myself a veggie omelet for breakfast...I reached out and pressed my hand onto the stove burner. It hurt. She smiles. A _lot_. But today...look.

Her hand is inches from his face. It is also devoid of any burns.

How did that - ?

I don't know! she says. That's just it. But it did. Billy...I've got _powers_, Billy.

Just like Captain Tool, he mutters.

Huh?

Like Captain Hammer, or something? he says to her.

I'm not sure, she says. Oh, I _wish_ I could find him and ask him about it! But he's -

- been missing ever since that day at the shelter, he finishes for her. _That day at the shelter._ What a thing to call it.

She laughs, with little mirth. See the thing is, I don't remember any of it. I've pieced it together second-hand, but my side of it's completely blank.

There's a pause, and underneath them his wash finishes.

It must have been terrible, she murmurs.

Horrible, he says. Absolutely horrible.

---

_Day 18. Or 19, if I don't end up getting this posted until after midnight._

There's something I wanna set straight here, people. Apparently there's been speculation about my League position getting revoked since the person I supposedly killed is no longer dead. Well, sorry, Hammerheads, but it looks like I'm not going anywhere. Official ELE statement says that since technically she WAS dead at any point in time, it totally counts. And I get bonus points because I put your beloved Captain out of commission, so there. My slot at Bad Horse's Sinister Stable Table is secure.

... I still can't believe she isn't dead.

I...can't...

[video cuts]

_So, yeah. The ELE retreat this weekend should get me back in the zone...we're gonna go over some plans for the upcoming fiscal year, and they're letting us bring the henchmen, so I don't have to worry about my place being soaked when I get back._

Now I'm gonna go...put some drops in my eyes...because they got all red and puffy again. I've been struggling with this lately, but the League has a great eye care plan, so. Yeah.

---

The bank robbery almost falls through, because she's _kissed_ him.

She did it. _She_ kissed _him_. He can't contain himself, but he has to, has to calm down and wait to tell Moist and Pummeler _after_ the heist is over. But damn, that's so hard.

He leaves Pummeler at the wheel of the Horrible Van while he and Moist storm the bank. For once, he actually wants some of the money itself, rather than just the disorder. The next time they go to the cute little pretzel kiosk, and she's spreading low-fat cream cheese on her sesame seed pretzel, he wants to lean over and kiss _her_ instead, and give her something special. So he enters the bank with a spring in his step, thankful that Moist hasn't started asking questions yet.

He enters the bank, and finds someone standing in his way.

It's a woman, her long hair rolled into a chopsticked bun at the back of her head and her eyes obscured by a plain white domino mask. _A superhero? Surely not._ She's wearing a white shirt, striped with the thick rays of a red-orange Japanese rising sun radiating out from where the breast pocket should be. It hugs her form, which is a bit gangly and awkward. A red belt holds up dark casual jeans over red sneakers. Not very flashy. Kind of boring.

Who the heck are you? he asks her. She says nothing. Shrugging, he moves to step around her. But she follows, blocking his path forward. He dodges back to the right again, and she stays in his way.

Out of my way, lady, he says, but she remains a silent impediment. So he sends Moist out around her with the empty sacks. One of her scrawny arms reaches out and clotheslines him, and he slips on his own slimy feet.

Okay, you're asking for it, he says, and levels his handheld death ray at her menacingly. When she still shows no signs of moving, he turns off the safety, and when Moist finally stands only to get knocked over again, he pulls the trigger. She was asking for it. _Superheroes._

The beam pierces her straight through the rising sun, and she reels backward - from the waist up. But by the time Moist has regained his footing again, she's standing back up too, cracking her slim neck this way and that, and oh god, now he knows who the heck she is, because she's _kissed him_ and he hopes she doesn't notice when he falters and takes a step back, and that Moist doesn't ask why he's suddenly tugged his goggles down over his eyes.

Still not speaking, she reaches over and tugs the death ray out of his half-slack hand. With a commanding point at the bank door, she ejects them from the building, and he and Moist rejoin Pummeler in the van.

What's happenin'? Pummeler asks.

Some kinda superbitch, says Moist.

Just drive the van, he orders, not looking at either of them.

A small hurting part of him, deep inside, still wants to buy her the ruby drop earrings.

---

_Day 30._

Look, guys, I'm...I'm in the doghouse across the board, guys. The League has me in a pretty tight spot because freaking Rising Sun keeps thwarting my schemes, and my girlfriend seems so...distant. I dunno what's up with that.

... Okay, so that's a lie. I DO _know what's up with that._

... Loyal viewers, I've got a...plan. I don't know if it's going to work at all, and I don't really know what's gonna happen if it doesn't. But mark my word, Sunflowers, I AM going to put a stop to your precious heroine.

If it's the last thing I do.

---

They meet in a third-party, neutral location. Admittedly, it's an art gallery he's trying to knock over, but still. He knows she will be there.

He leaves Moist in the lobby to get into position. He hates himself for what he's had to do to Moist to get him to go along with this plan - he's always prided himself on being very courteous to his henchmen. But this has taken some growling and threatening.

And so he enters the main exhibit room alone, and unarmed. Weapons don't hurt her. You can't damage her body. She stands in front of a painting of some Hurricane Katrina wreckage or something, one of the gallery's highest-priced items. He crosses to her slowly, apprehensively.

When he is close enough that she could hear him if he murmured, he murmurs, I know it's you in there, Penny.

Her head hangs ever-so-slightly. I know it's you...Billy.

He doesn't leave them time to think about it. His hand strikes out. She blocks it deftly, and swings back herself. They exchange hits, parries, jabs. When she moves to cartwheel toward him, he makes sure that "toward him" is "toward the door."

Just when his limited repertoire of martial arts has almost been expended, he realizes that they are nearly in position. He shuffles around her, feinting, keeping her distracted, and then he yells out, Moist, _now!_

An old, familiar blue beam lances toward them, and they freeze as motionless as the gallery's statues.

---

_Hey, is this thing recording? Uh, hi. It's me. Moist? He's mentioned me, right?_

Look, uh, the Doc's not gonna be...making any more of these...

Geez, I guess what it comes down to is that he hates to lose, you know? And there really wasn't a way to win this one. You're kinda screwed if your arch-nemesis is also your girlfriend.

... I didn't really wanna do it, but I guess I really am a henchman, through and through. You know?

... I don't know what he did to that freeze ray, but I don't think either of them are going to be moving for a very long time.


End file.
